‘So it is. So what?’
Lottie thumped a key and the screen turned to black. ‘I don’t know.’
‘What’s brought this on?’
‘Queenie said that Paddy had a broken heart. We can assume Elizabeth was in school with Bridie. And we’ve just found a Claddagh ring on a chain in her room. What if there was a love triangle and Paddy was mixed up somehow?’
‘And he killed Elizabeth and then his wife? Oh, and I suppose you think he also abducted Lynn O’Donnell and kept her hidden for ten years? And Mollie Hunter too, just for good measure. You need more coffee, Lottie, your brain is dead.’
‘My brain is on fire. I need to talk to McWard again.’
* * *
She brought two squad cars and Kirby, along with Boyd, for protection. There was no knowing how this was going to pan out. She had a lot of unconnected lines of thought but she knew that somewhere in the maze the answer was waiting to be found. And currently, Matt Mullin aside, all paths were leading her to Paddy McWard.
Crime-scene tape circled the remains of the McWard house. Paddy was at his cousin’s mobile home. He stood at the door. No invitation to enter. If that’s the way you want it, Lottie thought. We’ll do this in front of your relations and neighbours.
‘Your mother-in-law passed away an hour ago, Paddy.’
‘Good.’
‘Good?’
‘At least she won’t have to mourn her daughter and grandson.’
A pang of fear pierced Lottie’s heart as she thought of Katie and Louis so far away from her. She better ring Chloe to make sure she and Sean were okay. As soon as she finished here.
‘Did you know Elizabeth Byrne?’
‘No.’
‘Mollie Hunter?’
‘What’s this about?’
‘Answer the question.’
‘Never heard of her.’
Lottie played her trump card. ‘What about Lynn O’Donnell?’
‘No.’
But his face told the lie. Eyes shrouded over, pupils dilated to black crescents beneath their lids, and the light spilling from the bulb outside the caravan cast a yellow hue on his rapidly tensing skin.
‘Come with us, Paddy. We need to have a word down at the station.’
‘Again? How many times have I been there and each time it’s been a waste of time. So no. You either arrest me or be gone. I’ve done nothing.’
‘We need to speak to you with regards to the arson attack on your home.’ She watched as his fists curled. ‘We can do this the hard way.’
She took a set of handcuffs from her pocket and pointed to the two squad cars with their flashing lights at the gate.
‘This is the last time.’ He relented and pushed by her, heading for the nearest car.
Lottie could have sworn there were tears in his eyes.
Eighty-One
They followed the two squad cars back to the station, and Lottie jumped out at the front steps. She wanted to be inside when McWard was brought in.
Even though it had started to spill rain, she began pulling off her coat as she ran up the steps.
‘Inspector Parker! A word, please.’
Lottie turned to see the reporter, Cynthia Rhodes, complete with a cameraman behind her. A feeling of déjà vu flashed before her eyes. This wasn’t going to turn out well.
‘What do you want, Cynthia?’
‘I believe two complaints have been made against you today. Care to comment?’
‘What complaints?’
‘I’ve had a call from a Mrs O’Grady. She says you upset her daughter unnecessarily. Wants to highlight garda insensitivity. The girl’s best friend was found murdered and all that.’
‘That’s a load of bull.’ Shut up, Lottie, she chided herself. But she knew it was too late.
Rhodes was in full swing. ‘And the O’Donnell family. I’ve a complaint from them also. DI Parker, can I have a comment about the discovery of Lynn O’Donnell’s body two days ago?’
‘No, you can’t.’
‘Why did it take so long to inform her family?’
‘None of your business.’
‘I think it is the nation’s business, Inspector. Was she badly decomposed? Was that the reason for the delay?’
‘Why don’t you piss off back to Dublin?’
Shit!
* * *
Paddy McWard had been taken to a cell by the time Lottie got inside, because there was someone in both interview rooms. She rushed upstairs to find Lynch standing in the middle of the office, wet and bedraggled-looking.
‘What now?’ Lottie snapped, rolling her coat into a ball and kicking it beneath her desk. Her T-shirt was sopping and her jeans were stuck to her legs. Fuck it, she thought. But she couldn’t get Cynthia Rhodes out of her head. She was in deep shit if that toerag excuse for a journalist broadcast … What exactly had she said? She sank into the nearest chair and held her head in her hands.
‘Would you like a coffee? A Diet Coke? I’ve a can in my bag.’
‘I thought you were off sick.’
‘I’m okay now, boss. This can wait.’
Lottie looked up at her detective. ‘I’m sorry. What was it you wanted to say?’
‘Matt Mullin. He was with his mother all along.’
‘The shite.’
‘He’s depressed. Actually, he’s in a fairly bad way. He’s in the interview room.’
‘Now?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Shit.’ Running her hand under her nose, Lottie blocked a sneeze.
‘You need to go home and change,’ Lynch said. ‘Did you eat today?’
‘Did I eat? You know what? I honestly don’t know. I’ll be down in five minutes. You stay with him until I get there.’
When Lynch retreated, Lottie searched her pockets for a tissue and found the slip of paper with the phone number Keelan O’Donnell had given her. What could that be about? No time now. She’d call her later. Stuffing it back into her pocket, she squeezed out her dripping hair and figured Matt Mullin would have to take her the way she was.
Eighty-Two
The man in front of her didn’t look anything like his photograph. For a start, he looked much older. Despite black rings beneath red-rimmed eyes, there was a certain smugness to his demeanour. Well, Mr Mullin, we’ll see how long that lasts.
Without preamble, Lottie placed Elizabeth’s photograph in front of him. The death-mask one. He recoiled instantly. That worked nicely, she thought.
‘Was breaking up with Elizabeth a recipe for murder?’ she said.
‘What are you talking about? I never laid a hand on her.’
‘Expect me to believe that? Mr Mullin, I’m in no mood for games. I’ve had a bitch of a day. Start talking.’
‘Talk? About what? I didn’t kill Elizabeth. I loved her. I miss her so much. I can’t believe she’s dead.’
Lottie showed him a photograph of the chain and ring she’d found.
He looked up at her with a raised eyebrow. ‘Was that Elizabeth’s?’
‘Was it Elizabeth’s?’ Lottie mocked. ‘You gave it to her, didn’t you?’
‘Honest to God, I never did. I never saw it before.’
‘You think I’m going to believe that?’
‘It’s the truth.’ He bared his teeth, gnawing his bottom lip.
‘When did you last see her? And don’t tell me it was a year ago, because guess what? I won’t believe it.’
He sighed. Considering. ‘I found the break-up hard. Once I was in Germany, I knew I’d made a mistake. But she wouldn’t listen to me. Blocked my number. Wouldn’t talk. It made me ill.’
Was this guy for real? Lottie rolled her eyes and felt Lynch nudge her knee.
‘Go on.’
‘I got so depressed, I couldn’t work and came home to Mum.’
‘A thirty-five-year-old banker, jacking in his job and running home to Mummy. Priceless.’
‘You’re a bit of a bitch, aren’t you?’
‘Ah, now I’m getting to hear the real Matt Mullin. So you came home. When?’
‘Early December.’
‘And you met Elizabeth?’
‘No. I told you, she wouldn’t meet or talk or anything. So I started following her. On the train.’
Lottie let out a low whistle. Stalker popped into her mind, quickly followed by murderer.
‘Did she see you?’
‘Probably. But she ignored me. Some days she was sitting beside that other girl.’
‘What other girl?’
‘The one that’s missing. Mollie Hunter.’
Lottie sat up straight. ‘You saw Elizabeth sitting on the train with Mollie Hunter?’